


Saturday Mornings

by knittedwithstars



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Fluff, I keep forgetting this is prewar, Implied Relationship, M/M, Pre-War, Sorry no real action here, author hasn't written anything for months, dumb fluff, morning fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 17:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13885506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittedwithstars/pseuds/knittedwithstars
Summary: Edward's a busy man. He tries his best to make up for it. Short pre-war Jack/Edward fluff.





	Saturday Mornings

It was a nice and sunny Saturday morning, the seagulls chanting in the distance, the waves sympathetically gentle, the air fresh as the coast transitioned from a crisp spring to a warm summer. And while science never slept, Jack Cabot usually allowed himself the leisure of foregoing the setting of his alarm clock after a long and eventful Friday night. So he languidly awoke this morning from a murky and quickly fading dream, curling his fingers and toes and stretching his bare body through the coiling sheets, then finally blinked his eyes in the red-hued room, squinting a bit at the bright patch of sun that glared off the opposite wall. 

It was pleasant and all, awaking well rested on his own time, sun on his back and a faint breeze hissing through the window— very pleasant— but the missing component hits Jack nearly immediately and dunks that fuzzy contentedness into the emotional equivalent of an ice bath. 

He was alone. No warm, encasing arms or tangled legs, no breath on his neck or hair tickling his cheek, not even the courtesy of turning to see a lovely muscled back bowed over the bedside. No, he was alone, and it was quiet, and empty. 

He couldn’t quite hold the small sigh of disappointment that steamed out of him, and he didn’t feel particularly inclined to. He hated it when this happened. He hated it a lot.  
For one, he strongly disliked having his plans disrupted— when he went to bed that night carefully planning out just how he’d roll over and clasp Edward’s face and how his beard would tickle as he sweetly kissed him, he wasn’t too happy to have those meticulous plans shattered.  
Secondly, more seriously, these mornings had become sacred to them. Something of a ritual. One day a week to not give a damn and spend warm, serene mornings tangled up in one another and talk for hours about nothing in particular, maybe mosey off to the kitchen for a messy breakfast, nursing tea in the sunroom, knowing that Jack’s mother was off in her weekend meetings and Emogene was probably fluttering around town, though her presence wasn’t always unwelcomed. Eventually, yes, Jack would shrug on his labcoat and head to the lab, that ever-present underskin anxiety bubbling up just enough pressure to urge him back to work, but those few spare hours… That’s what got him through the week. 

But it wasn’t ‘sacred’ enough that Edward would turn his radio off for the night. And that’s what left Jack waking alone, he guessed. Nothing major, or else Edward would’ve woken Jack too, but a minor mishap, a questionable blip, even a stray question, and Edward’s duty took him away. Duty first, always. 

And Jack had no one to blame, maybe that’s just what made it more frustrating. He couldn’t expect Edward to neglect his job for their sake, _as his employer,_ that’d just be plain ludicrous. Edward’s job was a necessary evil. He wouldn’t be here, at the Cabot’s, if it wasn’t.  
The necessity of it didn’t make his bed feel any less empty. He still just wanted to ask Edward to turn off his damn radio before they tucked in. He couldn’t.

And so, in those few waking minutes, pondering and pouting as he stared at the textured ceiling, Jack’s morning was already ruined. It didn’t usually get to him this bad, but… it’d been a rough week. And they’d had a great night. It felt uncomfortable and unfulfilling to leave it like this. Edward might pepper him with soft apologies later, and he’d appreciate it, but it didn’t change things now. Being left alone to somberly pick his clothes off the floor always left a bitter touch on his mood for the rest of the day, like spilled coffee or toothpaste on his tie. 

Quickly, the more he thought about it, the more bitter and dejected he became. If he’d known Edward would be gone, he wouldn’t have stayed in bed so late. He could’ve just got up earlier to get to work, now he felt anxiety stirring in his chest at how much of the day was wasted. Maybe he should just ask Edward to wake him if he had to leave. _Maybe they should just forego these mornings altogether, if this was how it was going to be…_ That last thought made him freeze with a sharp clench in his chest. He blinked and swallowed, but he let it sit there and simmer a moment, because Edward kept telling him it wasn’t healthy to keep pushing down and smothering his emotions. After some seconds, the heat of the statement dissipated, and instead sat like cold lead in his stomach.

 _No, he shouldn’t be like this._ He sighed as he started to roll over to get up and search for his robe. It wasn’t good for anyone. He was disappointed, yes, but he was grateful that they were able to spend the night together in the first place. He just needed to focus on the positive, and try—

  


A distinct crinkle sound made him pause mid-roll. His brows furrowed and he sat up, tossling his awry bangs as he brought up the folded sheet of paper that’d apparently been sitting on Edward’s pillow. He squinted at the writing, to find that it had ‘Jack’ scrawled across it, in his bodyguard’s surprisingly exquisite script; he swipped his glasses off the nightstand as he somewhat hastily unfolded the paper sheet over his legs.

“Morning Sweetheart,

Small incident out at Parsons. Nothing major, but I’ve gotta go take care of that. Sorry. I’ll make it up to you later. Promise.  
Should be home by dinner. Take it easy today, go for a walk or something, don’t blow yourself up ~~again~~.

Love you,  
Lots,  
Edward”

The strangled, breathy noise that rose out of Jack’s chest roused him out of his stupor first. Common sense be damned, he couldn’t help but hide his face in his hands like a embarrassed school girl as a heavy blush and a wide smile took over his features. All that bitterness and melancholy melted away like icecream on the boardwalk under the brilliant heat in his chest. He read the note several times over, dawdling on every word and curve, grin wide and knees drawn up, before getting up to get dressed. He tucked the note into his breastpocket and swept out of the bedroom to face the sunny Saturday afternoon with renewed and giddy fervor.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm functionally alive!  
> With a new fandom!  
> And an obscure pairing!  
> Follow my FO blog at beating-synth-heart.tumblr.com ! (Please!)


End file.
